


Trouble With A Capital T (And That Stands For "Tiny")

by Cinnamon_Anemone



Series: Tony Stark Bingo (2019-2020) [2]
Category: Iron Man: Armored Adventures, Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AI Tony Stark, Actual Good Dad Howard, Age Regression/De-Aging, Bucky Barnes is dad material, Gen, Kid Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Post-Canon, Protective Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark is an idiot, it'll be fun they said!, nothing could possibly go wrong, upload your consciousness to the cloud they said!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 10:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20469476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamon_Anemone/pseuds/Cinnamon_Anemone
Summary: Tony is five. Panic ensues.





	1. Honey, we shrunk the genius

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to the numerous readers and betas who cheered me through this out-of-control monster, including but not limited to the lovely crew of Mei (sleepoverwork), Nix (Nix3994), Summer (justanotherpipedream), Joanis (kimannhart), and Arboreal. Can you believe I thought this was going to be a 2-3k one-shot? 
> 
> For those of you coming here from the Armored Adventures fandom: this fic is set post-canon, around 7 years after the end of the show. Steve has been unfrozen, Bucky has been found, and the Avengers have officially been formed (and I'm kind of ignoring the Grey Hulk thing whoops (also the Winter Soldier totally killed Maria, extra whoops)). 
> 
> For those of you coming here from anywhere other than the Armored Adventures fandom: all you need to know is that somebody in the Marvel animation department greenlit an Official High School AU, somehow, and it's pretty great, actually. Tony is a Millennial, Howard is a delight and the Dad-iest Dad to ever Dad, and Rhodey - god help him - has been putting up with Tony's shenanigans since they were in diapers.
> 
> This chapter fulfills my A2: De-Aged!Tony square for the 2019 Tony Stark Bingo!

“Steve? Bruce?”

The other two men turn their heads to see Bucky staring down at the couch, wearing an expression of deeply perplexed distress. “Why is there a kid sleeping on the couch?”

Silence. 

“Uh.” Bruce finally says. “What?”

Rather than repeat himself, Bucky just points. His other hand – the metal one – is still clutching his coffee mug, holding it protectively in front of his chest, like the creature in front of him might leap up and attack. 

Steve and Bruce look at one another, and get up to investigate. 

They join Bucky in front of the couch. Bruce stares. Steve stares.

“Uh,” Bruce says again. 

Before any of the three can hazard an explanation, the child snuffles and shifts in his nest of blankets. He sits up with a yawn, rubbing at sleep-tacky eyes, blinks at them, and— stares back.

Another beat of silence. 

“Hi,” Bucky blurts. 

“Hi.” The kid's face wrinkles into an adorable little frown. He gives the common room a once-over, and then turns his gaze back to the three Avengers. “Where is this?” he asks, sounding confused but not as upset as he probably should be. “Who are you?” 

Both Steve and Bucky are goggling at the visitor like they just got lobotomized, so Bruce has to come to the rescue. He kneels down to look the kid in the eyes. “You're in Stark Tower, in New York. I'm Bruce. What's your name? Do you remember how you got here?” 

The kid perks up as soon as Bruce says ‘Stark Tower.’ He gives the room a more thorough assessment, and though it's pretty obvious he still doesn't recognize it, whatever he sees is apparently enough to convince him that Bruce is telling the truth. “I'm Tony,” he says with great authority. “I’m five. And I live here. How did _ you _ get here?”

_ “...Tony?" _Steve squeaks.

They all do a double-take. The big blue eyes; the tousled head of loose, dark curls; the baggy MIT sweatshirt hanging off his shoulders…

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky says.

“_Language_,” Steve replies automatically. 

Bucky gives him a withering look, and Steve gestures helplessly at… miniature Tony, possibly trying to express something to the effect of ‘don't curse in front of the child.’ Tony is obviously delighted by Bucky's profanity, which rather undermines Steve’s protest. 

“Are you kidnapping me?” Tony asks, in a matter-of-fact tone that would probably be alarming if there weren't several other extremely alarming things happening right now that are much more pressing. “You shouldn't do that. My dad's gonna be really mad.” 

“No!” the three Avengers protest, almost in unison. 

“We're not kidnapping you, Tony,” Bruce rushes to assure him. “We— we're. Uh. I'm… a scientist. And I think there may have been some kind of… accident. Lab. In the— a lab accident. And we're… going to fix it. It’s okay if you don't remember, but you're, um, you're safe. Here. With us.” Steve and Bucky look on in despair as Bruce fumbles through the half-assed ass-covering.

Tony, fortunately, seems to be a very credulous five-year-old. He looks confused again, but still not especially concerned. “What kind of accident? Is that why I don’t remember? Do I have to go to the doctor?”

“No, no, I don’t think you— well, actually, maybe a different kind of doctor? You’re not hurt or sick, but I think there’s someone we can call to… help you remember.” 

Steve raises his eyebrows and stage-whispers, “Strange?” Bruce nods.

“Oh. Okay.” Tony fidgets in the adult-sized hoodie that is now swallowing his child-sized body. The shorts Adult Tony had been wearing have a drawstring, thank god, which Tiny Tony tightens when he realizes how big they are. “What floor is this? Can I go back to my rooms now? Where's mom and dad?”

Bruce winces, and Steve doesn’t react only through heroic force of will. Bucky looks like he just got slammed in the gut with a two-by-four. 

“Your dad is… travelling. For work. That’s why we’re looking after you till he gets back.”

Tony narrows his eyes at Bruce. He looks like he’s about to point out that there are numerous other adults more qualified to look after him than three obviously panicking strangers – or, worse, ask why Bruce hadn’t mentioned his mom – when his gaze catches on the glint of metal around Bucky’s coffee cup. His eyes go wide, and he instantly loses all interest in Bruce. “Do you have a metal hand?”

Bucky’s whole body flinches when Tony addresses him. “I—” He takes a moment to steel himself, and then answers very quietly. “Yeah. A metal arm, actually.” 

“Can I see?” Without waiting for permission, Tony hops to his feet and makes grabby-hands at Bucky’s arm. Bucky’s expression could now best be described as ‘poorly-disguised terror,’ but he swaps his coffee mug to his other hand and lets Tony have the arm. 

“_Wow_. This is _ so _ cool! Who made it? What’s it made of?” He tugs Bucky back to the couch. Bucky looks pleadingly at Bruce and Steve, who are worse than useless, because they nod in vigorous approval and take the opportunity to escape. Bucky glares. 

While Tony is distracted by the prosthetic and chattering happily away about servomotors, Bruce and Steve retreat to the kitchen for a strategic confab. 

“We have to tell Howard,” Steve whispers.

“Do you _ want _ to die? I don’t want to die, Steve. We can’t tell Howard.” Bruce wrings his hands. “No, we, we can figure this out on our own. This has to be some kind of… magic, uh, magic backlash from yesterday. Remember when Tony got hit with that spell and we thought it didn’t do anything? This must be it. It must have been meant to work on some sort of delay.”

Steve blanches. “Oh, god.” The implication is as obvious as it is horrifying: in the heat of battle, any of them could have gotten tagged with a time-delay spell and not realized it. They both take a moment to imagine the chaos of the whole team falling prey at random to wacky magical transmogrifications. “Call Strange,” Steve says decisively. “Right now.” He looks back over his shoulder at the couch, where Tiny Tony is now grilling Bucky on the mechanical accommodations for the unique properties of vibranium. “I’ll call Rhodes. I think he’s better-qualified than the rest of us to deal with… this.” Bruce makes a strangled sound that Steve chooses to interpret as agreement. 

They both disappear briefly to make their respective phone calls, and then reconvene in the common room. In the intervening time, Tony has managed to divest Bucky of his long-sleeved henley and find, somehow, a screwdriver. 

Steve raises his eyebrows. “He wanted to see the shoulder joint,” Bucky mumbles, plucking at his sleeveless undershirt. 

“It’s _ amazing_,” Tiny Tony happily contributes. Bucky actually _ blushes _. 

“Uh huh,” Steve says. His lips twitch in a hint of a smile. 

Bruce smiles as well. “That’s great, Tony. It’s going to be a couple hours before the, um, doctor gets here, how do you feel about coming down to the lab to do some tests with me?”

Tony lights up. “Yeah!” Then he hesitates, looking at Bucky. “Can he come too?” 

Steve nods encouragingly at Bucky; Bucky’s face contorts into an inscrutable and slightly cross-eyed expression; Bruce takes the decision out of Bucky’s hands by plowing ahead with forced cheer, assuring Tony that “Of course he can come. Let’s all go together, okay? It’ll be fun. Tests are fun, right?”

“Yeah!” Tony agrees again, with completely genuine cheer, making him possibly the only five-year-old in history to hold such an enthusiastic opinion on ominously vague ‘testing’. He squirms off the couch and starts leading Bucky toward the elevator. “What’s your name?” If the rudeness of pawing at someone’s prosthetic limb for ten minutes without even knowing their name occurs to Tiny Tony, he makes no indication of it.

“Bucky,” Bucky replies, his voice faint. 

“What’s _ your _ name?” Tony then asks Steve, turning a critical eye on the as-yet least interesting member of the party as they all pile into the elevator.

“Oh. I’m. Steve?” Steve looks flummoxed, and Bucky manages to collect himself enough to roll his eyes. 

“What do you do?” Tony tilts his head at Steve. Bruce’s position as a scientist had earned Tony’s immediate trust, and he has evidently decided that Bucky’s arm is enough to justify his presence in the Tower, but he’s still trying to figure out how Steve fits into the equation. 

“I’m Bucky’s friend. I’m an—” He snaps his mouth shut on ‘Avenger,’ because if Tony doesn’t have his adult memories, he wouldn’t have any idea what that is. “...I fight bad guys,” he finishes lamely.

Tony looks skeptical. “Like a policeman?”

“More like a… soldier. I was in the Army.”

This proves to be an acceptable answer. Tony nods. “Rhodey’s dad is in the Air Force. He fights bad guys too.” He turns his attention to Bucky again. “Were you in the Army? Is that what happened to your arm?”

Bucky clears his throat, avoiding Steve and Bruce’s sympathetic gazes. “Yep. Nazis took it and gave me a robot arm instead.”   
  
Steve stifles a surprised snort, and Tony makes a scoffing noise that is totally hilarious coming out of the mouth of a kindergartener. “Nazis aren’t real anymore,” he informs Bucky. “Captain America beat them all in World War II.” 

Bucky’s stunned-goldfish expression lapses for the first time, and a sly smile creeps across his face. “Oh, yeah? Captain America beat _ all _ of them, huh? Every single one? He won the whole war all on his own?” 

Steve goes beet-red. _ “Buck,” _ he whines under his breath. Bucky’s grin turns evil.

Tony doesn’t notice: he looks suddenly uncertain, his face scrunching up again in that impossibly cute little frown. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Maybe not. But he beat a lot of them.” 

“Well, I reckon he did. He was _ very _good at punching Nazis.”

Even Bruce is struggling to maintain his composure, now, and Steve is only spared further teasing because the elevator comes to a stop and opens up on Bruce’s lab, and Tony’s attention is immediately fixated on the smörgåsbord of scientific instruments that comes into view. 

“_Wow_. I’ve never been to _ this _ lab before.” He bolts out of the elevator, ignoring Bruce’s squawk of protest, and starts getting handsy with some kind of very large spectrometer. 

“Hey, Tony, let’s, uh, let’s let me run the equipment, okay?”

Tony gives Bruce the haughtiest glare a five-year-old can muster. “I know how to use it.”

Bruce laughs weakly. “Of course you do, Tony. But we’re going to run the tests on you, so I have to operate the instruments, right?”

Tony’s shoulders sag, and the enormous sweatshirt droops on his tiny body, making him look even more forlorn. “I guess so. What kind of tests?”

“Oh, a bunch of different ones,” Bruce says, with a nervous smile. He was not prepared for this question. 

“Why don’t you try to guess while he’s doing them?” Bucky interjects. “You like puzzles, right, kiddo?” Both Steve and Bruce look at him with raised eyebrows. Tony, however, perks back up, intrigued by the challenge. 

“Sure. I’m good at figuring out experiments.” He beams at Bucky. “I bet I can tell you what _ all _ the stuff in this lab does.” He darts over to a different machine. “This is a plasma wakefield particle accelerator. It uses laser pulses to make a high-gradient plasma structure! It’s a super-small collider so you can do particle physics experiments without a bunch of really really long tunnels. And you can use the charged particles to treat cancer and stuff.”

“And stuff,” Bruce mutters under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. There’s an awkward silence between the three adults as Steve and Bucky click on Bruce’s reasons for investigating high-energy particle therapy. Tony chatters on, oblivious.

“And _ this _ one—” Tony scoots over to some other instrument, and Bucky catches him mid-dash, hauling him up under his metal arm like a sack of grain. Tony is (briefly) startled speechless by the manhandling.

“Hey, Short Stuff. How about you let your buddy Bruce do those tests of his, huh? I think you’re making poor Steve’s eyes glaze over.”

Tony wriggles out of Bucky’s hold, pulling the sweatshirt halfway over his head. When he re-emerges from the tangled fabric, his hair is even more ridiculously tousled than before. Bucky purses his lips to hold back a smile. “He would understand if he would _ listen_,” Tony huffs, indignant. Tony at this age had obviously not quite clicked on the fact that not everyone is as smart as he is, which is funny and sort of sweet – but it’s also a little bit sad that he’s already so used to the frustration of feeling ignored by adults. 

“Nah.” Bucky crouches down to Tony’s level. “Stevie’s just dumber than a box of rocks. He doesn’t even know how to run a microwave oven.” Steve splutters quietly in the background, but Tony giggles. “You can tell me all about it, Tony. How ‘bout that? You can give me a run-down on all this neat stuff while Bruce does his thing.”

“Okay,” Tony says, almost shyly, gazing up at Bucky through those long, dark lashes like he’s the best thing since the invention of the transistor. 

Thus follows an hour of scans and tests that are far too arcane for Steve and Bucky to make heads or tails of, but are apparently not exciting enough to hold Tony’s attention. He gets tired of playing the ‘guess what invisible beams I’m shooting at you now’ game with Bruce about twenty minutes in, and goes back to pestering Bucky and Steve. But mostly Bucky. Bucky, at least, can sort of hold his own with Tony’s shockingly technical ramblings, prompting him on with age-appropriate and passably intelligent questions. Steve, on the other hand… Tony had taken to heart Bucky’s joke about Steve being exceptionally dim, and speaks to him accordingly. As soon as he gets a chance, Bucky signals Bruce to start up the lab’s audiovisual recording, because the spectacle of a five-year-old Tony Stark lecturing Steve Rogers patiently, slowly, and with very small words is _ fucking hysterical. _

“I’m bored,” Tony announces just past the hour mark. “And I’m hungry. Are you almost done, Mister Bruce?” 

Bruce shrinks into his characteristic slouch, and sighs. He shrugs at Steve and Bucky, as if to say, _ I got nothin’. _“Sure, Tony. Let’s take a lunch break.”

They all pile back into the elevator and return to the common room. “What are you feelin’, Squirt?” Bucky asks, sauntering into the kitchen. He’s much more relaxed about Tiny Tony’s presence, now that he’s had some time to get used to the idea.

“A… sandwich!”

“Yeah? What kinda sandwich? BLT? Italian? Grilled cheese?”

Tony looks suddenly lost. “I dunno. My mom usually helps me make them. Can I call her? Is she with Daddy?”

For just an instant, a wave of grief and guilt passes over Bucky’s face. Steve and Bruce both open their mouths, getting ready to jump in, but Bucky cuts them off. “I don’t think you can call her right now, buddy,” he says gently. “But I can help you out. Let’s start with the bread and see where we go from there, alright?” And if his voice is a little rougher than before, well, Tony doesn’t seem to notice.

“Okay.” 

The dip in Tony’s mood smooths out as Bucky leads him through the process of picking out ingredients for his sandwich. Pretty soon he’s cheerfully ordering the three adults around like his own personal minions. Not that he doesn’t need the help: for all his energy, Tony is a little wisp of a thing. His head tops the counter, but he doesn’t have the reach to effectively utilize it. 

“More Nutella, please,” he asks Steve, who obediently slathers another scoop of hazelnut spread on a second slice of white bread. The first slice has already been anointed with generous layers of peanut butter and marshmallow creme. 

Bucky, in the midst of slicing a banana, shakes his head. “Tony, this sandwich is an abomination. If anybody finds out we fed you this, they’re gonna make all of us get our tubes snipped.”

_ “Buck,” _ Steve hisses, scandalized, at the same time that Bruce yelps _ “James!” _ like Bucky had dropped an ice cube down his shirt. 

“What? He doesn’t know what it means. And since when are you such a goddamn prude, Rogers? If I’d known being in earshot of a rugrat is all it takes, I’d have made you babysit my baby sisters more often, back when you were five feet of nothing but piss and vinegar.”

Steve looks like he’s torn between being chastised and finding an excuse to argue; Tony looks like he’s torn between being annoyed that he’s getting left out of Grown Up Talk, and being thrilled by Bucky’s crassness. Bruce looks like he’s making his peace with being strapped to a rocket and launched into deep space by Howard Stark. 

“What _ does _ it mean?” Tony pipes up, eyes bright with curiosity as he latches onto this new thing he doesn’t know that has gotten the grown-ups all worked up.

“It means no one’s ever gonna let us be parents because we’re letting you eat half your weight in sugar for lunch,” Bucky replies, unflappable. Tony giggles. “How many bananas, Squirt?” 

Tony grabs the edge of the counter and props his chin up on it. “All the bananas!” 

“_All _ the bananas. Okay, pal. Pass that here, Stevie.” Bucky takes the Nutella’d bread and starts layering banana slices on it.

“At least it has some fiber and potassium,” Bruce sighs.

“And marshmallow!” Tony adds.

“Ah, yes,” Bruce replies dryly, smiling despite himself. “How could I forget that essential nutrient: marshmallow.”

Bucky finishes with the bananas and lays the two halves of the sandwich on the plate. “Anything else before we close this baby up?”

Tony peers at the sandwich, and his brow furrows in thought. A few moments pass. “Sprinkles?” He looks up at Bucky for permission. 

Bucky has no defense against those big, hopeful eyes. “Guess it can’t get much worse than it already is. Sprinkles it is.” Tony grins, and Bucky reaches into the cabinets for a bottle of nonpareils. When the marshmallow fluff has disappeared under a coating of rainbow dots, Bucky slaps the two halves of the ‘sandwich’ together, slices it on the diagonal, and hands the plate to Tony. “There ya go. Now, remember: if you make yourself sick eating that, it’s your own fault and I’m not gonna feel sorry for you.”

Tony giggles again and scampers off to the couch with his so-called lunch.

Bruce heaves another sigh, but it’s starting to sound more fond than exasperated. “I’ll clean up. Make sure he doesn’t go into hyperglycemic shock or try to feed bananas to the roomba.” 

Bucky throws Bruce a lazy salute and turns to follow Tony. “C’mon, Stevie.”

Steve twitches in surprise and gives Bucky a hunted look. “Uh.”

Bucky is unimpressed. “Seriously, Steve,” he says, _ sotto voce. _ “You can talk to him. He’s not going to explode on contact. Lighten up.”

“I’m just… this is so weird, Bucky.” Steve says under his breath. “And you know I’m not… I didn’t have siblings like you did. I don’t think I’m good with kids.”

“Bullshit. You’re great with kids. The kids are the only part of the Captain America gig you actually _ like _.”

The set of Steve’s jaw says ‘you’re right but I’m not going to admit it.’ “That’s different. This is... It’s _ Tony _.”

Bucky replies with that insouciant half-shrug that Steve knows so well. “So just talk to him like you talk to Tony normally. He’s smart, he’ll keep up. He’s just an extra-small human, Steve, not an alien.”

Steve makes a dubious noise in the back of his throat. But he tags along nonetheless. When Bucky sprawls out on the couch, Steve joins him, gingerly seating himself on Tony’s other side. 

“Hey.”

Tony favors Steve with a tolerant smile. “Hi. Do you want some of my sandwich?” He says it like he’s offering a treat to a toddler, and Steve resolves to kick Bucky’s ass later for convincing Tony that he’s basically the Tower’s village idiot. Bucky reads his face like a book, and smirks.

“Sure. It looks pretty good, actually.” 

Tony nods and carefully breaks off a corner. Steve takes the proffered bite of sandwich, which… _ is _ pretty good, to be honest. Very sweet. The crunchy sprinkles are a little weird.

“Huh. Not bad. What’s it called?”

Tony was not expecting that question, and he gives it several seconds of very serious consideration before Bruce chimes in from the kitchen: “Based on the ingredients, I’d say it has to be a nutanafluffella sandwich. A variation on the classic fluffernutter, of course.”

Tony breaks out that patented thousand-watt Stark smile – finally proving that he comes by it honestly, and it’s not just a media gimmick. It’s even more winning on the face of an adorable little five-year-old. It’s impossible for Steve not to smile back.

“Nutanafluffella. Another groundbreaking Stark invention, huh?”

“Uh huh.” Tony pulls off another piece and hands it to Steve. “Why are you named after Captain America?”

Steve freezes with the food halfway to his mouth, his eyes going almost comically wide. “Uh,” he says, yet again.

In fact, everyone is quite startled by Tony’s deduction. Bucky had only jokingly used Steve’s last name that once, but Tony still noticed and put two and two together. He may be cute, but he’s still Tony Stark: he’s not stupid. 

Steve, panicking slightly, looks to Bucky and Bruce for guidance. Bruce runs his fingers through his hair and throws his hands up in despair, clearly abstaining from the vote. Bucky gives Steve a long, steady look, and then shrugs. _ Up to you, pal _. 

Tony’s still watching Steve, looking more curious about the answer with every passing second. 

“I’m not named after him,” Steve says slowly, returning his nibble of sandwich to the plate. “I am Steve Rogers. Captain America. The real deal.”

Tony wrinkles his nose. “No, Captain America died in World War II. His plane crashed in the ocean. Anyway, he’d be really old now. You don’t have to make stuff up for me, I’m not a baby,” Tony admonishes. 

Steve smiles crookedly. “My plane went down, but I didn’t die. I got frozen in the ice, and the serum kept me alive. When they found my plane, SHIELD thawed the ice and woke me up.”

“Just like a microwave dinner,” Bucky contributes, which earns him a kick in the shin.

Tony frowns at Steve. “I don’t think that’s true. You’re making up stories.” 

“Nah, it’s the truth, Squirt,” Bucky says, more serious now. “He’s not the only one.” He taps his chest. “Bucky _ Barnes. _ Nazis, remember?” He wiggles the fingers of the metal hand, and Tony’s eyes widen. “They kept me on ice, too. Two old soldiers, flash-frozen for freshness. How’s that for cutting-edge science, huh?”

Tony looks back and forth between the two of them, but rather than being curious or excited, he looks distressed. “That doesn’t sound real. Are you making fun of me?” The question is directed at Bucky, who Tony has clearly decided he trusts the most. He seems more upset by the prospect that Bucky might be lying to him than anything else.

“Hey, no, Tony, I’m not making fun of you. I know it’s pretty weird, but I’m not lying. I promise.” Bucky ruffles his hand through Tony’s hair, frowning. “Why d’you think that?” 

Tony looks down and nudges his sandwich around the plate. “Sometimes people make stuff up because they think it’s funny when I don’t know it’s not true. A lot of grown-ups think kids are stupid.” He turns his gaze up to Bucky again, meeting his eyes defiantly. “_I’m _ not stupid. I think it’s mean.”

Now Bucky’s the one looking distressed. “You’re right, Tony. That is mean. And I promise that none of us will ever do that, okay? Nobody here is ever gonna make stuff up just to tease you. Especially not this big dope.” Trying to lighten the mood, he reaches out to flick Steve’s nose, which Steve protests with a startled squawk. “What everybody says about Captain America being honest cuz he’s all patriotic and shit? Nah. He’s just a really, really awful liar. Couldn’t tell a fib if his star-spangled life depended on it.” 

Steve glares at him, but Bruce chuckles in the kitchen, and Tony lets out a shy little laugh. 

“You’re really Captain America?” Tony asks Steve. He’s still skeptical, but he’s starting to look cautiously intrigued. He reaches up to pat Steve’s face. “Why do you have a beard?”

Steve looks totally bewildered once again. “Some of my friends said I should try it out. I don’t know, I think it looks good.”

“It looks like you got a weasel living on your face,” Bucky opines. Tony grins.

“Hey! You’ve got a beard too,” Steve points out, with a huff. 

“Yep,” Bucky says. He stretches his arms along the back of the couch, radiating smug serenity. “Looks good on me. Rugged.”

“Oh yeah? And I guess the man-bun is supposed to be ‘rugged’ too, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Makes you look like one of those fuckin’ hipsters,” Steve mutters under his breath, slipping a little into his old Brooklyn drawl. 

Tony covers his mouth to stifle another giggle, his eyes sparkling with glee. Profanity is even _ more _ amusing when it’s being slung around by a beloved national icon. 

“Okay!” Bruce interrupts, cutting off the two supersoldiers before they can lapse into more uncouth bickering. “Just about cleaned up here in the kitchen. Are you done with your sandwich yet, Tony?”

“Not yet, Mister Bruce. Are Captain America and Bucky your friends? Is that why they’re here?”

“That’s right, Tony. We all work for SHIELD, and that’s how we’re friends.” Bruce, evidently feeling a little sassier than usual, rolls his eyes. “For better or worse.”

Addressing Bucky and Steve again, Tony asks, “If you got unfrozen, how come it wasn’t on the news?”

Since they can’t say ‘it was, it was a non-stop media circus, you just don’t remember it anymore,’ Bucky says, “Yeah, well, that’s SHIELD for you. Spooks and their secrets, huh?”

Surprisingly, Tony accepts this explanation. For a kid barely in elementary school, he’s very phlegmatic about the machinations of shadowy government organizations. 

With that confirmed to his satisfaction, Tony starts to regain his earlier cheer. He hands a bit of sandwich to Bucky, who accepts it solemnly. “Did you know they make toys of you? Mommy got me a Bucky Bear for my third birthday. I’m kind of old for stuffed animals now but it’s still my favorite except for my robots.”

The stunned goldfish look makes a reappearance. “Yeah?” Bucky says faintly. “How about that.”

A slow, mischievous smile spreads across Steve’s face, and when he’s sure Tony isn’t looking, he mouths to Bucky, _ ‘never letting that go.’ _ Bucky replies with a sullen glower, but his heart clearly isn’t in it. He’s a little too starry-eyed for it to be convincing. 

This charming bonding moment is interrupted by a garbled noise of panic from Bruce, followed by a voice that is definitely _ not _ Bruce saying, “Oh, this had better not be what it looks like, or Tony is a _ dead _ man.”


	2. Time travel: not even once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Pepper, Rhodey, Stephen, Howard, and a very special surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fulfills my A4: Plot Twist square for the 2019 Tony Stark Bingo! ehehehehe ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Bucky freezes. Steve, doing his best impression of a cat startled by a hedgehog, leaps to his feet. “Pepper! I— Miss Potts. This is not what it looks like. I don’t think this is what you’re, uh. So—”

“I need to organize the spice rack,” Bruce declares, with some urgency, to no one in particular.

“But I didn’t do anything,” Tony interrupts. He frowns at Pepper. “Who are you?” He’s wary again: there is now another unfamiliar adult acting strangely at him, and it’s clear that Tony does not like that at all.

To forestall further misunderstandings, or possibly because he has no idea what else to do, Bucky points at Tony and just says, “Tony. _That’s_ Tony.”

Pepper stares. “...Oh my god. You shrunk my boyfriend.”

“I’m not your _boyfriend_,” Tony says, nose wrinkling. He looks hopelessly perplexed. “I’m five, and you’re… old.”

Steve lets slip a startled cough of laughter, and Pepper glares daggers (though the idiom doesn’t really capture the effect – perhaps ‘poisoned claymores, on fire’) at him. “Okay, one: the big version of you is totally paying for that later on,” she tells Tony, who looks indignant and no less confused. “Two: do any of you full-sized knuckleheads want to tell me what the _hell_ is going on?”

“The thing yesterday. With the—” Bucky wiggles his fingers in ‘magic spells’ gesture. “Strange is on his way. He says he thinks he can fix it.”

Pepper raises her eyebrows. “The thing yesterday with the jazz hands?” she asks, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Bucky makes a sour face. “You know what I mean.”

“What thing?” Tony asks. “Who’s strange?” He looks over to Bruce, who is staring at the spice dolly and seems to be having a minor crisis over the appropriate placement of cinnamon versus roasted cinnamon. “Was the lab accident yesterday, Mister Bruce? What happened?”

Bruce looks up and blinks owlishly at the address. “Ah, of course. Yes. The… lab accident. That’s right.”

“The lab accident?” Pepper gives both Bruce and Bucky the hairy eyeball, clearly waiting for an explanation for their conflicting stories.

Bruce clears his throat. “He, um, doesn’t remember what happened. We haven’t gotten into the… details.” Subtext: _we’re making this up as we go because we didn’t want to freak him out with the truth_.

Tony’s expression has shifted from confusion and frustration to open suspicion. “I want to know the details _now_.” He gets up from the couch and retreats from the group. “Why won’t anybody tell me what happened? Why don’t I know any of you? Stop talking about me like I’m not here!”

Everyone is taken aback by the sudden outburst from Tony, who up until now has been quite tractable. It’s easy to forget that he’s only five, and his emotional development doesn’t necessarily match up with his raw intelligence.

“Whoa, hey, Tony, it’s okay,” Bucky soothes. “There’s a lot of stuff we’re trying to figure out too. We’re just waiting for the Doctor to show up, and then he can help us explain—”  
  
“No! Everybody knows what’s going on and you won’t tell me! You promised you wouldn’t lie to me. I don’t want to see the doctor. I want to see my dad!” His lower lip trembles. Bucky’s expression says that he might just throw himself off the top of the Tower if Tony starts to cry.

Now that she’s moved past her initial shock, Pepper is also affected by Tony’s distress. “Tony…” she begins, her brows furrowing in concern.

None of them get any further than that, though, because then the elevator dings, and there’s the sound of heavy footfalls racing down the hall. Bucky is on his feet in an instant, and instinctively takes a defensive stance in front of Tony.

Rhodey rounds the corner. “I got here as fast as I— oh, shit, _Pepper_. Pepper, this isn’t—”

“Isn’t what it looks like, yeah, I know,” she says dryly.

“Oh. Right. Okay.” Rhodey looks briefly relieved, and then remembers why he’s here and goes right back to looking stressed. “Is he…”

Tony peeks out from behind Bucky. His eyes are wide and uncertain, and he’s clinging to Bucky’s metal arm.  
  
“Mister David…?” His voice is tremulous. David is Rhodey’s dad: Tony recognizes the resemblance to the friend he knows, at least. Tony scrutinizes him more closely. “...You’re not David.” He shrinks back behind the shield of Bucky’s body. “Who are you?”

Rhodey glances around the group of adults. “Are you serious? You didn’t _tell_ him?”

“We thought it might be… too much at once,” Bruce explains quietly. “We didn’t want to upset him.”

“And you didn’t think he would figure it out? It’s _Tony_.” He makes an exasperated gesture in Tony’s direction. “As soon as he gets his hands on one of your phones, he’ll have it worked out in thirty seconds.”

“Figure _what_ out?” Tony demands. He doesn’t sound like he’s about to burst into tears anymore, so that’s progress. There’s a determined glint in his eyes, and he’s glancing from person to person, looking for a phone that he can snitch.

Rhodey walks over and squats down in front of Tony – or, rather, in front of Bucky’s thighs, which Tony is still hiding behind.

“Hey, T-man. Let’s start with this: what did they tell you?”

Tony grudgingly tears his attention away from planning his phone heist, and looks at Rhodey with serious, assessing eyes.

“They said there was a lab accident that I don’t remember, and they’re bringing a doctor to look at me. They said they’re taking care of me while Mommy and Daddy are on a business trip, but I always stay with Rhodey and Mrs. Roberta and Mister David when Mommy and Daddy are away. I don’t think they’re kidnapping me, though, because they’re really bad at it.” Rhodey and Pepper both muffle amused snorts. “Also, _they_,” he points up at Bucky and then over at Steve, “said they’re Bucky Barnes and Captain America. They were cryogenically frozen and SHIELD found them and unfroze them in secret.”

“Wow.” Rhodey raises his eyebrows. He’s still looking at Tony, but the judgey eyebrows are clearly directed at Steve and Bucky. “So they didn’t think you could handle the other stuff, but they told you that part?”

Tony gives Rhodey a small shrug.

“Okay. Well, they mostly didn’t lie to you, but they left a lot of stuff out. So I’m just gonna lay it all on you, alright, Little T?” Tony nods vigorously. “I’m Rhodey. Your Rhodey. And it’s 2019.”

Tony’s eyes go as big as saucers. He replies in an awed whisper: _“Time travel?”_

Rhodey grins. “Not quite, Tones. More like a de-aging ray. There was a bad guy with some really weird powers running around the city, and we went with your buddies here,” he gestures at the other Avengers present, “to try and stop him. You got hit, and everybody thought you were okay, but apparently it just took some time to take effect. Looks like it’s been…” Rhodey glances at his watch. “Just about exactly twenty-four hours. And now, _zap._” He gently pokes Tony, who scrunches his nose like he’s trying not to smile, and finishes, “Grown-up Tony is three-and-a-half feet tall and doesn’t know how to drive a car.”

“I _do_ know how to drive a car,” Tony protests. “I just can’t reach the pedals on my own.”

Rhodey’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “Yeah, I don’t think the DMV gives out licenses to pipsqueaks who still have to sit in their dad’s lap and shout ‘gas’ and ‘brake’.”

“That counts,” Tony mumbles into Bucky’s elbow. He eyes Rhodey for a few more seconds, the gears turning in his little brain. “I don’t know if I should believe you. I’m not sure there’s such thing as a de-aging ray,” he finally concludes. “I’m gonna ask you something _only_ Rhodey would know.”

“That sounds like a really good idea,” Rhodey agrees.  
  
“And then I want to see your phone.”

Rhodey heaves a dramatic sigh. “See, I never should have mentioned that. Okay. Deal.” He holds out his hand to shake on it, and Tony, somewhat hesitantly, takes it.

“Okay. Are you ready?” Rhodey nods, and Tony slinks out from behind Bucky and leans in to whisper something in his ear.

As he listens, a slow grin spreads across Rhodey’s face. By the time Tony finishes, he’s stifling laughter. “It was a—”

“Shhh!” Tony interrupts, looking scandalized, and slaps his hands over Rhodey’s mouth. “It’s a _secret!_ You have to whisper too!”

Rhodey tries to get his expression back under control, without much success. “Oh, right. Of course.” He cups his hands around Tony’s ear and whispers something back.

Tony’s eyes widen again. He’s quiet for a moment, a little shaken by receiving the proof he’d requested. “Maybe you really are Rhodey,” he concedes. The revelation does not sway him from his other mission, however. “You said I could see your phone now.”

“Yeah, that was the deal.” He slides the cellphone out of his pocket, and Tony’s avid gaze latches onto the unfamiliar device. “_But_, you have to have supervision. Pepper will make sure you don’t click on something you’re not supposed to.” Pepper will make sure Tony doesn’t stumble across anything that will tell him that his mom is dead, is what Rhodey means.  
  
“That’s not fair! That wasn’t part of the promise!”

“Yeah, well, this thing is connected to the internet, and there’s a lot of stuff on the internet you don’t wanna see, Tones.”

“It’s connected to the internet?” The hungry curiosity in his eyes sharpens. “What’s on it that I’m not supposed to see?”

“Lots of websites full of naked ladies,” Rhodey says, with a perfectly straight face.

Tony’s face twists into a comical expression of disgust. In the background, Bruce slaps his hand over his face, and Pepper rolls her eyes. “Gross! Who wants to look at a bunch of naked people?”

“I have no idea,” Rhodey replies, still deadpan. “The internet is a weird place.”

“_Fine_,” Tony huffs. “I’ll be _supervised_.”

“Great.” Rhodey grins again, and holds out the phone, which Tony eagerly snatches from his hands.

He relinquishes the safety of Bucky’s formidable bulk, and crawls back onto the couch, eyes already glued to the screen. Rhodey waves Pepper over.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she murmurs.

Rhodey replies in an undertone as well, once he’s sure Tony’s not paying enough attention to listen in. “If we try to hide it from him, he’s never gonna trust us. He’s taking it pretty well so far, all things considered. Let’s let it play out.”

“What about...?” Pepper raises an eyebrow, trailing off into a significant silence that speaks for itself.

“Don’t push him to it, but if he finds it, I think the Avengers stuff will be okay. Just not…. You know.” He silently mouths _Maria._

Pepper blows out a heavy breath, watching Tony – who has already figured out the totally unfamiliar interface and touch controls – as he taps happily away at the screen. “Right. Okay. I’m internet parental controls for my superhero boyfriend who is now an amnesiac supergenius toddler because of magic. Not weird or crazy at all. This is my life now.” She straightens her shoulders and marches over to the couch.

With Tony appropriately monitored, Rhodey tries to gather the rest of the adults. Tony isn’t having it. “Wait!” he cries, as Bucky and Steve start to move away from the couch. He grabs Bucky’s hand and tugs him back, leveraging some truly impressive puppy-dog eyes. “Can you stay with me?” Bucky is the only one within his reach, but Steve is included in the plea. “I was going to look you up on the internet.”

“Sure thing, Squirt,” Bucky agrees immediately, settling down on the floor in front of him.

Steve glances at Rhodey, Rhodey shrugs, and Steve follows suit. “I’ll admit, that’s the first thing I did when they gave me the internet, too,” he tells Tony, who replies with a very small giggle.

That just leaves Bruce. Rhodey joins him in the kitchen area, out of earshot of their unexpected ward. Rhodey runs a hand over his short-cropped hair.

“You guys called Howard, right?”

Bruce, who has spent the past few minutes brewing himself some calming tea, takes a pointed sip from his mug. “I am extremely intimidated by Howard Stark. When threats to Tony’s health and safety are involved, I am _terrified_ of Howard Stark. Since excessive anxiety tends to give me the urge to smash buildings, no, I have not called Howard.”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Bruce looks at Rhodey over the rim of his mug, and takes a very loud slurp of tea.

Rhodey sighs and casts his eyes up to the ceiling. “Fine. I’ll call him. You’re gonna have to lend me your phone, though. What’s Strange’s ETA?”

Bruce nods and fishes around in his pockets. “Within the half hour, if he’s on time.”

“Well, the guy’s a tool, but at least he’s a punctual one.” Rhodey takes Bruce’s phone and slips away briefly to make the call.

The first fifteen minutes pass without incident. They manage to steer Tony clear of any major revelations, which isn’t that hard, because once he’s looked up Steve and Bucky and interrogated them for a few minutes about the circumstances of their freezing and defrosting, he’s mostly interested in the scientific advancements of the past twenty years. (Bucky doesn’t try to hide how relieved he is by the change in subject – his past with Hydra features prominently on his Wikipedia page.)

Then Tony asks to go to the bathroom. Pepper leads him to the nearest one, and returns to the couch, where she flops bonelessly into the pillows, wearing a dazed expression.

“So, this might be the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me in my life, which is really saying something, because I’ve also been transformed into a rampaging fire demon by ancient alien magic, and fought Tony’s evil time-traveling grandson.”

“If Tony was his normal self right now, he’d say Yogthulu was weirder,” Rhodey jokes.

Pepper groans. “He never shuts up about that stupid centipede.”

“Sometimes I’m glad I was a Hydra popsicle for seventy years,” Bucky mutters.

In Tony’s absence, the conversation between the rest of the team flows more freely (though everyone avoids the elephant in the room: _what are we going to do if Strange can’t fix him?_). Almost ten minutes pass before anyone thinks to wonder where Tony is.

It’s Bucky who points it out, of course. “Hey, why has Tony been gone so long? Should somebody check on him?” The conversation peters out as everyone looks around at each other, and checks their phones or watches.

_“Shit.” _Rhodey bolts for the bathroom, and returns only moments later, looking harried. “He’s gone.”

Panic ensues.

“He’s _gone?”_ Steve blurts. “Where the hell did he go?”

“How did he get past us?” Bucky growls, and starts swearing under his breath.

Pepper buries her face in her hands. “Oh my god. Oh my _god_. You shrunk him and now you _lost_ him.”

“What if— what if he de-aged again past his own birth and disappeared?” Bruce suggests, wide-eyed, which certainly does not help the level of anxiety in the room.

Rhodey pinches the bridge of his nose. “He did not shrink into nonexistence, Banner.” Bruce shrugs defensively and takes another long draught of tea. “You all didn’t know Tony when he was five. You would not _believe_ the trouble that kid could get up to.” There’s a general muttering of ‘I’d believe it,’ which Rhodey ignores. “He probably got some crazy idea in his head and ran off on his own.”

Bucky, who has already started prowling the floor, calls from down the hall: “Elevator is on the lobby level. Maybe he took it down.”

Rhodey nods sharply, like this is a military op and he’s about to give everyone their marching orders. “Banner, take Pepper and check your lab. Rogers, sweep the common areas. Barnes, with me, we’ll take the lobby.”

The gang splits up. Fortunately, their panic turns out to be unwarranted: Bucky’s hunch pans out almost immediately. Only moments after stepping out of the elevator, Rhodey and Bucky spy Tony at the counter of the lobby’s café, being cooed over by the entire four-person staff.

They see him stand up on his toes to stretch across the counter and stuff a fistful of bills into the tip jar, then hand the cashier a twenty and very politely ask for “one medium strawberry milk, please.”

“Nope.” Bucky dashes up to the counter just in time to intercept the order. “Make that one _small_, regular milk. Skim.” Tony turns to look up at him with an expression of such indignant outrage that one of the baristas breaks down into giggles. “And a protein box.” Bucky slaps a little lunchbox of nuts, carrots, and cheese onto the counter and steadfastly ignores Tony’s pout.

“Are you sure?” the cashier nudges with a smile, clearly angling to get Tony his strawberry milk.

“He had a marshmallow nutella sprinkle sandwich for lunch. The regular milk will be fine.”

Rhodey, who has been standing off to the side texting the _stand down_ via Bruce’s phone, looks up at that. “You gave him _what_ for lunch?”

Tony, sensing that he or Bucky or both are about to be in hot water, grabs the protein box and pointedly says, “Thank you for the carrots, Bucky.”

The corner of Rhodey’s mouth twitches up. “Nice save. He didn’t pay for those carrots, though. Where did you get that cash?” He looks a little closer at the bills Tony had filled the tip jar with. “Are those _twenties?_ Where did you get that _much_ cash?”

“Your debit card was in your phone case. I used it at the ATM. Your pin was just your mom’s birthday.”

“You— My debit card—” Rhodey splutters while Bucky tries really hard not to bust out laughing.

“You can take it back, sir, we really don’t—”

“No, no.” Rhodey waves the cashier off with a sigh. “Keep it.” And to Tony: “You can pay me back when you grow up, you little gremlin.”

“I can pay you back now. Daddy will—”  
  
“Aaand that’s enough of that,” Rhodey interrupts, hustling Tony away before he can reveal his identity and unusual magical circumstances to four random college kids in a coffee kiosk. “What are you doing down here, anyway? You can’t just run off whenever you feel like it, buddy. You scared us, disappearing like that.”  
  
“I just wanted to see if the Tower looks different,” Tony says, before they drift out of earshot.

“He’s adorable,” one of the baristas burbles, handing Bucky the small cup of milk. “Is he—”  
  
“Sister’s great-grandkid,” Bucky invents, before she can draw any tabloid-fodder conclusions. “Y’know, reconnecting with the family. Babysitting. Lots of new kids to keep track of. Big, uh, bigger family tree. Now. Than in the forties. Thanks.” He smiles, which he hopes doesn’t look too manic, and hurries after Tony and Rhodey.

“How charming.”

The sardonic comment startles Bucky, and he whirls around to face the café patron who had spoken - the guy is lucky Bucky didn’t punch him on instinct.

The man raises his eyebrows, and though he maintains an otherwise neutral expression, Bucky has the feeling, somehow, that he’s smirking. On the inside. “I take it this our temporally-afflicted acquaintance.”

Rhodey had turned when the man spoke, too, and now he addresses him with exasperated relief. _“Strange._ When did you get here?” He eyes the sorcerer’s half-drunk cappuccino and plate of biscotti. “Have you seriously been sitting down here sipping espresso all this time?”

“I generally find it prudent to fortify myself before dealing with Tony Stark in any capacity,” Strange cooly replies.

“Are you the doctor? I don’t even know you. What did I do?” Tony suddenly looks timid and a little sad, and Bucky reconsiders punching Strange in the face after all.

“I am a doctor, yes. No longer practicing, but it is not my medical skills that you require today. And I suppose now that we’ve had this little rendezvous, we might as well proceed. To the Avengers’ floors, I assume?” He stands and brushes a few biscotti crumbs off his jacket.

Rhodey purses his lips. He already looks irritated. “Yeah. Come on, Strange, let’s go.”

They return to the elevator that leads to the private floors and all pile in. Bucky hands Tony his milk, which he takes without complaint. He’s still subdued, watching Strange with cautious eyes.  
  
“What kind of doctor are you? Is ‘Strange’ your real name?”

“A neurosurgeon, formerly, and yes. And please refrain from voicing any of the jokes that are undoubtedly springing to your mind. They are no more entertaining from children than they are from adults.”  
  
Tony frowns. “I wasn’t gonna make a joke. So you’re not a doctor anymore?”

Now Strange looks irritated. “The fact that I am not actively practicing does not negate nearly twenty years of education and training. ‘Doctor’ is a permanent title.”

Rhodey gives Strange a warning glance, which he ignores. Tony’s frown deepens. “What do you do now?”

“I am a practitioner of the Mystic Arts.”

Tony obviously wants to ask for clarification on that, but Rhodey can’t resist getting in a dig first. “Yeah, and normally he has an outfit to match. What, no wizard costume today, Strange?”

“The _wizard costume_,” Strange says, giving Rhodey a withering look, “tends to attract attention. Unlike your small friend’s adult counterpart, I do not enjoy the slavish affections of the celebrity-obsessed masses.”

“Why are you mad at me?” Tony asks in a very small voice.

“Back off, Strange,” Bucky snarls. He feels Tony wrap his small hand around his metal fingers, and squeezes reassuringly.

Rhodey is pissed, too. “He’s _five_, dude. Can you lay off the snarky-rich-guy rivalry until you’ve fixed it so he can actually stand up for himself?”

Strange is taken aback by backlash, and actually seems chastened. His eyes widen slightly, and he straightens his spine, drawing an air of composed neutrality over himself like a cloak. “My apologies.” The elevator is silent for the rest of the ride.

When they reach the common room, there are exclamations of relief at Tony’s return, and polite greetings for Strange. Tony is a little overwhelmed by the ever-increasing group of adults and still wary of Strange, so he lingers in the protective shadow of Rhodey and Bucky, wide-eyed and quiet.

“So how do you want to do this, Doc?” Rhodey asks.

“Temporal magic is quite complex, and can be… sensitive. I would prefer a location that is warded against magical fluctuations. The Sanctum Sanctorum would be ideal, but if any of you have access to Stark’s lab, that will suffice. He has installed extensive magical shielding, which should be adequate.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “He has?”

“You know how Tony feels about magic,” Rhodey says with a snort.

“Magic isn’t _real_,” Tiny Tony interjects. His brows are furrowed in a frown and his eyes are bright with defiance, but there’s a plaintive note in his voice that belies his brave face. “I thought you were a _doctor_.”

“I assure you, magic is quite real.” Strange’s demeanor with Tony is noticeably more tolerant than it was in the lobby (which is probably due to the murder-glare Bucky is giving him, rather than the sorcerer taking a sudden shine to Tony). “But it follows its own rules and natural laws, just as does any other force in the universe. As an adult, you’re fond of reminding me that what I call magic is just ‘science that you haven’t figured out yet.’”

Tony’s frown deepens. “Then you shouldn’t call it magic. That’s stupid.” Strange arches one eyebrow, but otherwise remains impassive. Tony looks to Rhodey for confirmation, and Rhodey shrugs.

“Hey, don’t look at me. I’m just a rocket scientist. He wears a sentient cape and makes glowing portals with his hands; he can call it whatever he wants.”

Tony glowers at Strange for a few seconds, then looks down at the floor for a few seconds, then peeks up at the Avengers through his lashes. “And he’s going to figure out how to make me grown up again?”

Bucky smiles gently and ruffles his hair. “That’s the idea, Squirt.”

“Okay,” Tony says hesitantly. He pauses, then adds, “I have my own lab?”

“The best in the Tower,” Bruce tells him. “Better than mine. Even better than your dad’s.”

That puts the spark back in Tony’s eyes. “Okay,” he says again, firmer this time. “I want to see it.”

Rhodey – always the responsible one – insists that he make some progress on his protein box and milk, first. Once he’s satisfied that Tony has consumed enough non-sugar calories for the time being, the whole crew traipses to the elevator together. The mood is lighter now that progress is finally being made on the situation. Bucky is the only one who’s tenser than before, but if anyone notices, they don’t comment on it.

Then the elevator doors open, and Tony sets land speed records crossing the distance between the elevator and the sweeping glass walls of the lab.

“This is _mine?_” he squeals in delight, and plasters his hands and face to the glass. “What’s that? _Oh_— what’s—?” He’s so excited he can’t even string his words together, and resorts to tugging on Rhodey’s shirt and practically dancing in anticipation. “Hurry up, c’mon!”

Rhodey chuckles as he finishes typing in his access code. “Chill out, little dude, I’m working on it. Almost there.”

The access panel trills and flashes green, one of the glass panes slides open, and Tony’s off like a rocket.

“Wow. _Wow_. This— this is my lab?” Now that he’s inside, he actually goes still, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of _stuff_ and unable to decide what to investigate first.

But, perhaps inevitably, his eyes are drawn to the Iron Man suits. He trots over to the lit display cases, and looks up at the armors with something like awe.

“These are mine? I made these?”

“Well, technically, that one’s mine,” Pepper says with a smile, crouching down next to him and pointing at a slender, silver-and-purple suit. “And that one’s Rhodey’s.” The bulkier, black-and-grey War Machine. “But yeah, you built them all.” She gives him a teasing nudge and nods at his current armor. “I think red’s more your color, isn’t it?”

Tony just stares at the suit for a few seconds. “That’s Iron Man,” he finally says. “I saw it on Wikipedia. He’s an Avenger.” He tears his gaze away from the armor and looks back at the adults. “I’m… Iron Man? Am I a superhero?”

Rhodey puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “Yep. Pretty much. Though I want to point out, _I’m_ a superhero too. I guess you could say you’re my sidekick.”

_“Rhodey!”_ Pepper admonishes, and elbows him sharply in the ribs. Rhodey, unrepentant, just grins.

The joke is lost on Tony, anyway: he’s still transfixed by the Iron Man suit and its implications. After a few more moments of consideration, he speaks up again, his voice laden with gravitas and conviction. “Grown-up me is _awesome_.” He turns fully around to face the team again, crosses his arms, and casts a critical eye over them. “You should have told me all this stuff from the beginning. You didn’t have to make things up.”

“Told you so,” Rhodey says.

Bruce shrugs helplessly. Steve and Bucky just stand there looking awkward.

Strange clears his throat. “If this is settled to everyone’s satisfaction, perhaps we could begin…?”

Everyone looks at Strange with mild surprise, like they’d forgotten he was there. Rhodey changes gears first, sliding back into Important Adult Business Mode. “Sure. Just don’t freak him out, okay? Tell him what you’re doing, and give us a heads-up if something… more weird than usual is about to happen.”

“I’m not gonna freak out,” Tony mutters, though he doesn’t actually look one hundred percent sure of that. “I’m a _superhero_.”

“If being a superhero precluded emotional distress at strange and disturbing events, I imagine it would be a more popular profession,” Strange contributes, which is apparently his attempt to be reassuring.

Tony blinks. Rhodey pinches the bridge of his nose. Pepper raises her eyebrows and says, “Stephen, has anyone ever told you that you’re, like, comically terrible with children?”

“Yes,” Strange sighs. “It’s been mentioned.”

_“Anyway…”_ Rhodey prompts.

“Of course. Stark— Tony. Please find a comfortable seat. This may take a while.”

Tony, still watching Strange with deep suspicion, pulls over a padded rolling chair and settles himself in it. “What are you going to do?” And more quietly, after a pause: “Will it hurt?”

Strange sits cross-legged on the floor in front of Tony. “It will not hurt. You should not feel any physical sensations. I will extend my awareness into the astral realm, and identify and analyze the mystical energies entangled with your timestream. And then, ideally, remove them.”

Tony scoffs. “Uh huh. ‘_Magic’._”

“Call it what you like. Fortunately, this _magic_, like your technological gadgetry, does not require belief to function. You are free to observe and draw your own conclusions. You are a scientist, after all, Stark.” And before anyone can take him to task again for sassing a kindergartener, the sorcerer closes his eyes and makes some arcane gestures, and the characteristic rune circles shimmer into existence around his hands. He also starts levitating slightly, prompting Bucky to snort and mutter ‘_show-off’_ under his breath.

Tony, on the other hand, is flabbergasted. He’s clearly startled by the spell circles, but the levitation actually makes him jerk backward in shock. It takes him several seconds to recover, at which point he says, a little peevishly, “You can do that with holograms and maglev, too.” He’s watching the sigils avidly, though, and his eyes flicker as he follows their shifting dance, trying to parse their inscrutable patterns.

“I'm sure,” Strange replies, his voice dry. He doesn’t pause in his spellwork or open his eyes.

Tony gives an annoyed huff and watches the runes for another minute or so. “...Am I allowed to move? Can I talk?”

“Please stay where you are; otherwise, yes.”

“Cool.” Tony spins the chair a few times, just because he can. “Can I ask questions?”

“I would prefer that you not.”  
  
Tony pulls a rude face and turns his attention to the others instead. “He’s not an Avenger, is he?”

“Nah, he does his own thing,” Bucky says, still looking at Strange with slightly homicidal disapproval. “The magic types tend to stick with each other.”

"There's _more?_"

"Yeah," Rhodey sighs. "It's a whole thing. They're alright, though. A little weird, but they keep their side of things handled. And there's Wong, he's a good dude."

Everyone choruses, "Oh, Wong's great."

"Yeah, we love Wong."

"Wong's solid."

"Did we invite him to the last shawarma night? We should check what days work for him."

"I'll be sure to inform our librarian that he has a standing invitation to the Avengers." Strange's tone is sardonic, but the twitch of his lips hint that he's holding back a smile.

"I guess a librarian sounds okay," Tony allows.

Strange’s magical assessment does go on for quite a while, and Tony – who seems less inclined to chatter with Strange present – amuses himself by scribbling symbols from the spell circles into Rhodey’s notepad app and trying to puzzle them out. Rhodey keeps casting suspicious glances at the symbols on his phone, and mutters something about ‘matching with Dormammu on Tinder.’

“This is a very difficult and advanced spell,” Strange says suddenly, after about half an hour of relative quiet. “As I expected, based on the lack of adult memories, Stark has not been ‘de-aged’ physically, but rather temporally. In essence, his personal timestream has been diverted from the normal flow of time and… rewound.” He opens his eyes and frowns. “A low-level sorcerer should not have access to a spell like this, or the ability to perform it. This should have been well beyond the capacity of that nuisance you dealt with yesterday. I will have to investigate this further.”

“Okay, but can you reverse it?” Rhodey asks.

Strange tuns a haughty look on him. “Of course I can. Temporal magic is something of a specialty of mine.”

A palpable wave of relief flows through the room, and everyone utters some variation on ‘Oh, thank god.’

Everyone except Bucky, who is wearing the stony expression that he uses when he doesn’t want people to know what he’s feeling. When there’s a lull in the celebratory exclamations, Bucky interjects, almost hesitantly: “Do you have to do it right away?”

The room falls silent for a moment; no one knows quite what to make of the question. “I… suppose not,” Strange says, looking genuinely surprised. “The spell is stable. Delaying its reversal won’t harm him.”

“What happens if you _don’t_ reverse it?” Pepper directs the question at Strange, but her eyes are on Bucky, and she’s giving him a weird look.

“He will age at the standard rate from this point forward, though he will not regain his memories. Until the spell is reversed, he is, for all intents and purposes, a completely normal five-year-old child.”

“Except for still being a crazy supergenius,” Rhodey jokes. Tony has quietly been doing his best to take in the conversation happening around him, but that draws a small grin out of him.

Pepper frowns. “Well, you have to turn him back eventually. If you don’t, and his memories— I mean, we’d never… Wouldn’t it be... It would be like our version of Tony died.” She crosses her arms over her chest, looking upset.

“And what about _this_ version of Tony?” Bucky asks, gesturing at him. “How’s it any different for him?”

“Because he’s not— he’s not a _new_ version of Tony. He’s just Tony the way he used to be. He’s already _been_ a kid. We’re not _overwriting his existence_ like—”

“Are you sure about that? Shouldn’t he decide? It’s his life. His future. We don’t get to—”

“Okay, everybody hold up.” Rhodey puts up his hands to halt the escalating argument between Bucky and Pepper. “Like Strange said, there’s no rush, so let’s keep cool about this. And don’t argue in front of him, you’re stressing him out.”

“Are not,” Tony lies. He’s tucked his legs up on his chair and looks very small and _very_ stressed.

Bucky and Pepper, both wearing guilty expressions, pipe down.

“Anyway,” Rhodey says with a sigh, “Howard’s almost here, so let’s not— nobody’s deciding anything until he gets here.”

“Daddy’s coming?” Tony asks, hopeful, uncurling a little. “I thought him and Mommy were on a business trip?”

Rhodey hesitates. “Oh, yeah. Uh, well, we told your dad what happened and he was able to turn around at the last minute.” It’s not a good lie, and something in Tony’s eyes says he doesn’t believe it. But he doesn’t call Rhodey out.

Or maybe he just doesn’t have time to: only a few seconds after Rhodey had mentioned him, as if on cue, Howard Stark steps through the lab doors.

“Daddy!” Tony cries in delight, and dashes over to fling his arms around Howard’s midsection. Howard – though he had, of course, been warned what to expect – looks absolutely shell-shocked.

“Tony,” he whispers, stroking his hair almost reverently, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. When Tony finally releases him from the hug, Howard kneels down to his level and carefully puts his hands on his shoulders. “Tony. Look at you.” The smile that spreads across his face is something to behold.

“Look at _you_,” Tony counters, patting the top of Howard’s head. “Daddy, your hair’s all white! You’re _old_. Like Rhodey, but way older.” He seems equal parts entertained and offended by this.

Howard laughs. “I’m the same age I was this morning, kiddo. You’re the one who got hit with a bad case of shrink ray.”

“It’s not a shrink ray.” Tony laughs as well and scoots forward to throw his arms around Howard’s neck. Howard pulls him into another hug, his eyes shining. “That doctor says it’s a kind of time travel. Except it’s more like somebody made the time travel through me. But don’t worry, he says he can fix it. If—” here Tony hesitates, “if I want to.”

Howard’s expression turns serious, and he glances up at Strange, and then Pepper and Rhodey. “Well, Tony, that’s—”

The room dims suddenly, making everyone jump. Instinctively, protectively, Howard picks Tony up and takes a step back.

_“Daddy,”_ Tony protests, in a stage whisper, with the tone that is universal to children whose parents are embarrassing them in front of their friends. “I’m too old to be picked up anymore.”

“And I’m way too old to be picking you up,” Howard replies with a chuckle. He doesn’t put Tony down, though. “Rhodey, what’s going on? What happened to the lights?”

Rhodey shakes his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t—

In the middle of the room, a holographic projection shimmers into existence. It’s an image of Tony— the regular Tony, twenty-five years old, wearing the ratty jeans and t-shirt that he favors for working in the lab. The projection smiles apologetically.

“Hey. So, I guess it’s pretty obvious what this is. And the first thing I want to say is that I’m sorry about that. I set this up to activate if certain conditions were met, and if they have been… well, that probably means something bad has happened to me. I mean— okay, let’s not beat around the bush, it probably means I’m dead.”

“What,” Bucky whispers, with great feeling, “the _fuck._”


	3. Iron Man: now available on Google Cloud!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is not a secret lovechild, but he is a computer program, and also there are two of him. Wait, what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fulfills my FREE SQUARE for the 2019 Tony Stark Bingo!

The projection, true to character, rambles on. “Optimistically, it could mean that I'm stuck in another dimension or lost in the multiverse or something, but, yeah, ‘untimely death’ was the scenario I kind of had in mind. So I put this together to, uh… shit, I should have scripted this part.” Holographic Tony rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat.  
  
“Oh my god, Tony,” Pepper whispers. She looks like she might cry, and also like she might be trying to figure out if there would be any satisfaction in throwing her shoe at a glorified voicemail.

“Anyway, I, um, I just wanted to…” The hologram pauses, like the playback has glitched out.

But, no, it’s not glitched— it’s_ looking_. At Howard. And Little Tony.

The hologram frowns. “...All right, wait a sec. Please tell me this is not what it looks like.”

“_What _does it look like? Why does everybody keep saying that?” Little Tony complains. Nobody answers him, though, because everyone is suddenly busy talking over each other.

“Hold on—” Steve interjects. “I thought this was a recording.”

“What the_ hell_,” Rhodey says, while Bucky echoes again, “What the_ fuck_.”

“A recording?” The hologram asks, looking indignant. “You thought I’d go that low-tech for this, Rogers?”

“Well we sure as hell didn’t think you’d make an AI copy of yourself and set it up to trigger after you_ died_,” Rhodey all but shouts. “Are you serious with this right now?”

Bruce puts his head in his hands. “Why is my life like this,” he says, not expecting anyone to listen.

“I am totally serious and I’m also a complete neural pattern scan, not an AI, technically,” Tony says.

“So this is some kind of… computer simulation?” Steve asks, his frown deepening.

“Did I not just say complete neural pattern scan? I feel like I just said that. More importantly: is anyone going to tell me what is up with my tiny doppelganger, and tell me if I'm actually dead or not?”

“You aren’t dead but you’re_ going_ to be,” Pepper replies, incensed.

“Honestly, not the welcome wagon I was expecting, guys—”

“That’s enough, everyone,” Howard interrupts, using his sternest Dad Voice. “Let’s save this conversation for later.” Though he’s addressing everyone, he’s looking specifically at Digital Tony, and his expression says that it will be a Conversation with a capital ‘C’. “Tony, this is—”

“I’m_ you_,” Tiny Tony says, pointing an accusing finger at Digital Tony, “and you’re getting me in trouble. Everyone’s mad at you, so they’re going to be mad at me when I’m big again.” He huffs and tucks his head into the crook of Howard’s neck.

Digital Tony gawps. “Uh,” he says. “First of all: harsh. Second of all: what?”

“A sorcerer that the Avengers recently took into custody was able to gain access to a powerful spell that interfered with your personal timestream and reverted you to a young child,” Strange answers. He has a pinched look on his face and it’s clear that he really, really does not want to be here anymore. “The spell is reversible, though I believe there was some disagreement on the logistics of that before you…. arrived.”

“Huh.” Tony lets that percolate for a second. “Weird.”

Rhodey glares at him. “That’s all you’ve got to say about this?_ ‘Weird’_?”

“It’s slightly more weird than what I originally thought when I saw Mini Me over there, so, yeah.”

“And what did you originally think?” Pepper asks, raising one eyebrow in that particular way she has that means ‘you had better have the right answer to this or you are going to be in_ such_ deep shit.’

“I was actually going to go with ‘someone stole my blood and made a clone of me,’ but I can tell that that’s not what everyone else was thinking, so thanks for that vote of confidence, guys,” Tony says dryly.

“I’m not a clone. What did everybody think about me? I don’t understand.” Tiny Tony squirms unhappily in Howard’s arms.

“They didn’t think anything, they’re just goofing off,” Howard soothes, giving the trio a quelling look. Tiny Tony doesn’t buy it, but there’s enough going on right now that he lets the matter drop in favor of other concerns.

“What conditions?” he demands.

“What?”

Tiny Tony narrows his eyes at Digital Tony. He wriggles impatiently and Howard sets him down so that he can walk up to the hologram and examine it more closely. “You said you got activated because you— I… there were conditions that had to happen. What were they?”

Rhodey crosses his arms. “Yeah, actually, I want to hear this. I’d like to know how my supposed genius best friend_ accidentally_ activated his existentially disturbing sentient post-mortem farewell message.”

“Just for the record, I think you’re being unnecessarily weird about this.”

Pepper throws up her hands in frustration. “That’s because it is_ super weird!_”

“Stop fighting!” Tiny Tony stomps his foot and glares at all of them. “It’s my turn to ask questions!”

Rhodey and Pepper’s mouths snap shut; Digital Tony looks at Tiny Tony with barely-concealed glee, and obviously thinks this development is hilarious.

“Okay, Short Stuff. Shoot.”

“What conditions?” Tiny Tony repeats.

“Well, among other things, my systems being unable to establish a connection to Extremis for several hours. After that, Dad, Rhodey and Pepper all showing up in my lab at the same time. Usually that would be a sign that something has gone pretty wrong for me.”

Extremis had slipped everyone’s minds, and they all look surprised by Tony’s statement.

“Ah,” Strange says, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Of course. Because the transformation was temporal, not merely physical.”  
  
“...He doesn’t have Extremis because he didn’t have it when he was five,” Howard, who hadn't been present for Strange's run-down earlier, realizes. “It didn’t just change the age of his body, it pulled him back through time to when he was actually five years old.”

“That’s correct.”

“So this is all because of some magical bullshit?” Digital Tony asks, at the same time that Tiny Tony asks, “What’s Extremis?”

Digital Tony answers Tiny Tony instead of waiting for someone to answer his own question, which he didn’t really need answered anyway. “It’s a nanotech serum that lets me mentally interface with technology. Or, you know, flesh-and-blood me, a.k.a. you, but older, since everybody’s being weird about this ‘me’ being a digital replica. Anyway, I’m usually hooked in on some level to the Tower and armor systems. Sometimes Twitter. Sometimes Chinese missile systems, if I’m feeling frisky.”

Tiny Tony’s eyes go wide. “_Woooowwww_. That’s so_ cool_.”

Digital Tony grins. “Thanks, kid. I think so too.”

Steve sighs. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear the part about the Chinese missiles.”

Digital Tony winks at Steve, then looks to Strange. “Now, where were we? Hey there, Doctor Magic Fingers. Good to see you.”

“Likewise,” Strange replies, with immense sarcasm.

Tony isn’t bothered at all. “You were saying you could undo this, right?”

“Yes. I simply need permission, once a decision is reached on when or if to proceed.”

Tony raises his holographic eyebrows. “‘If’? How risky is this, exactly?”

“It’s not a matter of difficulty or risk. It’s a matter of consent.”

“Oh.”

“I think the kid should decide,” Bucky blurts. “If he wants to go through with it or not.”

Howard, who had vigorously ignored Bucky up to this point, turns to look at him like he’s a flea-infested dumpster rat that just had the audacity to give its opinion on_ haute cuisine._

Digital Tony’s reaction is more charitable. He seems surprised, but there’s no anger in it. He just looks at Bucky with a small, curious tilt of his head. When he speaks again, it’s thoughtful and measured – a far cry from his earlier irreverent humor. “I think… I think Barnes is right, actually.”

Howard turns away from Bucky – a pointed dismissal that no one in the room misses – and nods slowly. “I agree.” Bucky clenches his jaw, but otherwise doesn’t react to the hostility. He’s used to it.

“What about the rest of us?” Pepper asks. She’s still trying to glare at Digital Tony, just on principle, but her voice wavers and there are unshed tears in her eyes. “Do we get a say?”

Rhodey puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Pep…”

Tony takes a moment to weigh his response, but in that pause it’s Tiny Tony who speaks up.

“You don’t want me.”

“Oh.” Pepper’s face crumples. She kneels down in front of Tiny Tony to pull him into a hug. “Oh, no, Tony, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. Of course we want you.”

“I know,” he says quietly, hugging her back. “I mean, you want me to be big again. Because I’m supposed to be like him, the hologram Tony, and you’d be sad if I stayed like this.”

“Tony, that’s… Of course I want our Tony back. I’m pretty attached to that version, even if he is a big dumb jerk a lot of the time.” She laughs shakily. “But there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re not supposed to be like him. You’re just supposed to be you.” She sniffles and wipes at her eyes. “And… they’re right. You should choose, Tony. It’s not up to me, even if I want it to be. What’s important is what_ you_ want.”

Tony nods. “Okay.” When Pepper releases him from the hug, the expression on his face is far too solemn for a five-year-old. “Can I…” He looks around at the group, from his family to the Avengers to the hologram version of his older self. “Can I think about it for a little bit?”

“Of course you can, Tony,” Howard says gently. “You can think about it for as long as you want.”

“In that case,” Strange says, “I think it would be… appropriate for me to take my leave while you deliberate." The sorcerer is not doing a good job of hiding the fact that he is desperately uncomfortable with all the emotions suddenly happening around him.

Rhodey nods. “That’s fine. We’ll give you a call when we’re ready, yeah?”

“Thanks for your help, Strange,” Digital Tony adds, and Strange tilts his head in polite acknowledgement before opening up a portal and stepping through.

“...I thought he said Tony’s lab had magical wards,” Steve says.

“Not ones strong enough to stop a show-off Sorcerer Supreme,” Rhodey replies, shaking his head.

“Did he just_ teleport?_” Tiny Tony asks.

Digital Tony shrugs. “Stable wormholes.”

Tiny Tony squints at the spot where Strange had disappeared. “...I bet I could make a stable wormhole. With science,” he mutters.

Digital Tony’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “Spoilers,” he sing-songs. Tiny Tony looks at him in confusion, but Tony just chuckles and says, “Now, what’s the plan, Mini Me?”

"I… I don't know." He sidles back over to Howard and grabs his hand. "Do I have to stay here? Can I… Can I go outside? I only got to go downstairs for a minute. I want to see what the city looks like now."

"If your dad's okay with it," Rhodey says slowly. The logistical complications and potential disastrous results of setting a de-aged Tony loose on New York City are numerous. There's a reason they'd hustled him back upstairs earlier, after all.

But Howard, whose eyes are bright with a quiet, desperate longing, just says, "Where do you want to go, Tony?" If Tony said 'the moon', Howard would find a way to make it happen.

Tony thinks about it for a second. "The Natural History Museum?" he finally decides, and looks hopefully up at his father.

"Good choice," Digital Tony says. "There's an exhibit on the mechanics of space flight right now, you can go and correct everything they got wrong."

Rhodey rolls his eyes (fondly) and Tiny Tony smiles. "And then we can go to the park after, and feed the ducks."

"Hmm," Digital Tony says. "More questionable choice. Those ducks are assholes."

"That's why I like them," Tiny Tony confides. "They're loud and sometimes they bite people."

Bucky lets out a bark of laughter before he can stop himself, and puts his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. Digital Tony grins. "You know what, Mini Me? You're totally right. I forgot how much I loved those evil little dinosaurs."

Howard chuckles and ruffles Tiny Tony's hair. "We can do the museum and the ducks, kiddo."

"Can my friends come?"

Howard's eyebrows quirk up. "Oh, they're all your friends already, huh?"

"Rhodey's always my friend, and Miss Pepper is nice even if she's too old to be my girlfriend," Tony explains. Digital Tony sighs.

"I'm gonna be in the doghouse for that later, aren't I?" he says, as a sidebar to Pepper.

Pepper, amused, whispers back, "Oh, you totally are."

"And Mister Steve is Captain America and Wikipedia said that we fought aliens together!" Tiny Tony continues, oblivious. "Mister Bruce showed me his lab, which is not as cool as this one but it's pretty cool, and Bucky helped me invent a Nutannafluffela sandwich! Also he has an_ awesome_ metal arm. He let me look at it."

"How about that," Howard says, smiling mildly. The smile doesn't reach his eyes, though. When he looks at Bucky, those eyes hold all the warmth and compassion of a shark.

The awkwardness in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife. Tiny Tony, fortunately, doesn't notice. "So can they come, Daddy?" Howard looks pained, struggling between the desire to keep this for himself, and the impulse to give Tony anything he wants.

To everyone's surprise, it's Bucky who steps up to take the fall. "Here's the thing, Squirt," he says, crouching down to Tony's level, which is as close to Tony as he dares get with Howard watching. "We tend to cause a hell of a ruckus when we all go out together, on account of the whole 'Avengers' deal. People want photo ops, and sometimes bad guys figure it's a good chance to mess with us. I think you'd have more fun if you just went with your dad."

"Oh." Tony's face falls, which has approximately the same effect on Bucky as a knife to the kidney. "But… if you've been frozen since World War Two, you should come see the rocket ships," Tony says, grasping for excuses. "Did you know we went to the moon?"

Bucky smiles weakly. "Yeah, buddy, I heard. But you can show me the rocket ships another day, alright?" he says, like he's giving up something precious.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Tony sighs.

“Besides, I think your dad’s looking forward to havin’ you for the day. You haven’t been this tiny and adorable in twenty years.”

“I am_ not_ tiny,” Tony says indignantly. “It’s only ‘cuz I’m five and not grown up yet. And mommy says I’m_ handsome_.”

“You’re in the fifteenth percentile for height and weight, pipsqueak,” Digital Tony informs him. “You are extremely tiny. And_ so_ adorable. See, Pepper? I always told you I was a cute kid.”

Pepper rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. Tiny Tony sticks his tongue out at his older self. Digital Tony snickers.

“You can be cute_ and_ handsome, buddy,” Howard tells Tiny Tony, pinching his nose to make him laugh. “And Mister Barnes is right.” He sounds less sour about agreeing with the ex-assassin than he did earlier. When he glances up at Bucky again, the expression on his face is unreadable. “We’ll never get through the museum if everybody wants to take pictures with your friends. Don’t worry, they’ll all still be here when you get back.”

“Okay,” Tony relents, convinced by the threat of having his museum time interrupted. “Let’s go, Daddy!” He tugs Howard towards the door. Now that his mind is made up, he’s laser-focused his new goal. “It’s already late, we gotta get there so we can see everything!”

Howard smiles like it’s the best day of his life, and lets himself be led away. “Alright, Tony. But we’ll have to stop by the store, first. We need to get you some real clothes.”

Tony looks down at himself and flaps his arms in the gigantic MIT sweatshirt. “Yeah,” he says agreeably. “Okay, bye Rhodey! Bye Bucky and Mister Steve and Mister Bruce, and Miss Pepper!” He waves at all of them as he trots out of the lab with Howard in tow. “Don’t get me in more trouble, Computer Me!”

The holographic version of Tony looks scandalized. “Wow, called out by my five-year-old self. Savage,” he says, as the lab doors hiss closed behind Howard and Tiny Tony.

Bruce, who has kept pretty quiet for the last few minutes, chuckles softly. “Opinionated little thing, aren’t you?”

“Imagine growing up with him,” Rhodey says, shaking his head. His tone is dry, but there’s something soft in his eyes as he watches Tiny Tony and Howard board the elevator and disappear. “Now.” He turns on Digital Tony, with an expression that is significantly less indulgent. “You want to start telling us what the hell_ this_ is all about, man?”

Digital Tony shrugs awkwardly. “Well, this isn’t really how I meant for it to come out…”

“But here we are,” Steve says, raising one eyebrow. “Wouldn’t say this is a cat you can put back in the bag, Stark.”

“So, we know Steven is throwing in his vote for Bring Back Big Tony. He’s obviously not comfortable unless he can make his disappointed faces at me.”

Steve sighs. “Tony—”

“This isn’t a_ joke_, Tony,” Pepper interrupts. She’s not quite recovered from her little talk with Tiny Tony, and her eyes are a bit red. “I don’t know if this is— I don’t know if I can even call_ this_ Tony or not. I can’t believe you used the neural imprint tech on yourself to make a_ copy,_ to... “ She wipes angrily at her eyes. “Why? How is this supposed to help anything?”

“Yeah, this is seriously fucked up, dude,” Rhodey agrees.

Tony is at a loss. He looks between Pepper and Rhodey, and exhales heavily. (The hologram doesn’t need to breathe, of course, but it’s included as a naturalistic detail.) “I… I don’t know, guys. I thought… I guess I thought you’d be, you know. Happy.” He frowns, and his eyes flicker away for a moment before returning, reluctantly, to meet their gazes. “If something happened to me, this…” he gestures down at his holographic body, “means I wouldn’t really be gone.”

“Is that what it would mean?” Pepper demands. “You thought if you died, we’d be okay with a_ hologram?_ That we could replace you with a computer program and it wouldn’t matter? Tony, how can you—” She cuts off abruptly with a sharp inhale and bites her lip, trying not to cry.

“Pep, it’s… it’s still me,” Tony says helplessly. “It’s… I mean, this is as good as it gets. A full-fidelity neural replica. It’s ‘me’ in any way that matters. I know it’s not the same, but—”

“It_ isn’t_ the same, and it_ does_ matter, Tony!” Pepper snaps. “Did you not think that you should have_ talked_ to us before you did something like this? You can’t— you can’t just use technology to circumvent all the consequences of… of_ life_ , and not even tell us until it’s already done, and expect us to be okay with that!_ Your own death_ isn’t something you can fix with Extremis and some neat computer programming!”

“Man, if you’d really gotten yourself killed and we were seeing this for the first time, I’ll be honest, I’m not sure how I’d feel about it,” Rhodey agrees, and his warm brown eyes are grave. "I wanna say I'd come around eventually, 'cause I sure as hell don't want to lose you, and I…" He sighs. "I guess if it came down to it I'd take what I could get. But, Jesus, Tony. You should have talked to us first."

Tony looks at them both for a long time, uncharacteristically quiet. (Steve and Bruce share a look, and Bucky has done his best to fade into the background. His expression is completely closed off. All of them feel like intruders in this conversation.)

"Do you want me to deactivate it?" Tony finally asks, breaking the strained silence. "If Little Me wants to go through with the fix, I can shut down this simulation and erase the files."

Pepper lets out a frustrated exhale. "No! Tony, I hate that you did this without_ telling_ us, but you— this—"

"It would kind of feel like killing you, and that's somehow even more fucked up than the fact that you did this in the first place," Rhodey finishes bluntly.

Tony doesn't know what to say to that.

Bruce clears his throat. "I think we're going to… go," he says, making a vague gesture at the door and starting to shuffle towards it.

Steve nods. "Seems like this conversation is something you all might want some privacy for."

"Yeah, I'm thinking we've got another couple hours of grief to give him," Rhodey says, with a hint of something that's almost dry amusement. Digital Tony grimaces. "You guys can head out. We'll catch up with you when the kid version gets back."

Bruce gives Rhodey a sheepish but grateful smile and retreats. Steve and Bucky follow behind.

"Hey— Barnes," Tony calls out, just before Bucky exits. The supersoldier freezes. "Thanks." Bucky blinks, and though he's still trying to keep his face blank, it's obvious that he's surprised. "You're really good with him. Me. Whatever," Tony explains. He's giving Bucky that thoughtful, curious look again. "Little Me really likes you."

Bucky shrugs. "I like him too, I guess. You made a cute kid." His voice is a gruff mumble. He doesn't meet Tony's eyes.

Tony's only reply is a small, crooked smile. Bucky ducks his head, and slips out of the lab.


End file.
